


When did it happen?

by Strbck23



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6938272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strbck23/pseuds/Strbck23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of awkward, unfulfilling kisses leaves Mulder wondering if he and Scully could feel any passion together. Post-Millennium through Post-all things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Chris Carter and the gang have redeemed themselves with the new season, I am happy to say that these two are in the possession of Ten Thirteen. But don't we all like getting off on "borrowing" them for a while? :-)

Rating: This story could...probably will become NC-17. But this chapter is just, idk, PG.

Spoilers: Millennium and everything before.

Author's Notes: (Published 1/26/2016 on fanfiction.net.) I got the idea for this, tonight, struck by lightning, while reading a wonderful story by a wonderful author on this site. I haven't had any interaction with her (yet?) so I won't mention her name here (yet? lol.) I've been dwelling over the progression of Mulder's feelings during my latest rewatch, but for some reason this all came to me while reading that story.

Feedback? YAAAASSSSS!

* * *

 

To put it mildly, I had a crush on her. Scully. Dana Scully. I don't know how it's come to this. I would like to say that it's always been this way, or I knew the exact day it began. Perhaps, after she was abducted and returned to me. When I noticed how life wouldn't be the same without her so early on. Then again, no. Or, that day I hugged her in the hallway of that hospital, during her cancer. She so fragile, yet strong in my arms. Yes, that would be a good time to say it began. But, still, no.

I truly believe we have been entwined in each other's lives for eras, as I spat out during that past life regression session. Certainly, in this life, from the start, we've had an exceptionally strong bond. Fiercely loyal, protective and supportive of each other, professionally and in times of personal hardship. But our relationship was so black & white at one time. And somehow it has shifted into the gray for me. Slowly, my thoughts of her went from simple and easy to jumbled and chaotic. Imperceptibly slowly, like water in a pot coming to boil.

First, tiny, pin sized bubbles sitting down low on the Teflon. I began to notice how funny she was. Her wit was catching me off guard, drawing sharp laughter out of me. The challenge of trying to elicit a rise from her. The faintest lift of her eyebrows, the slightest flicker of amusement in her eyes, the easiest stifle of a smile on the very corners of her mouth. I called them victories, those moments.

Next, the bubbles doubling, tripling in size and floating to the surface. At one time, if we weren't on assignment on the weekends, I would do my own thing. Do research, clean my fish tank, chase down a lead, hang with the Gunmen, whatever. I began to look forward to and make excuses for seeing her. Calling her to join me on weekend trips to find lake monsters, calling her to a haunted house on Christmas Eve, stuff like that. I began to crave her companionship.

Then, the water bubbling rapidly up from one point over the hottest part of the element, near the center of the pot. My lips an inch, less, away from hers in my hallway before she was stung by that bee. Her thumb brushing my lips, in what seemed like the promise of a kiss in my doorway, after she'd told me of Diana's death. Kissing some alter-Scully on a ship in the Bermuda Triangle.

My heart was pounding, as it had done on sporadic, random occasions near her in the recent past. I stood there with her, watching the ball drop. I had thought about this moment a lot lately. Watching the couples on TV kissing, ringing in the new year, I wondered if I, too, should kiss my partner. I wondered if I should seize this moment, for a first kiss. Rather than leaving it to some desperate moment of hurt, some impetuous act in a dire moment. My eyes shifted from the TV to her profile. I see the almost imperceptible movement of her eyes, she using her peripheral vision to look at me.

I know now if I don't take this moment I will dwell on it for days, weeks. I lean in some and my hand feather lightly brushes her jacket where it drapes near the small of her back. I pause for the briefest of moments, over her shoulder, wondering what she will do. As cliché as it sounds, there are butterflies in my stomach when she turns her head towards mine. Not only turning to see what I want, but tilting her head, knowing what I want. I blink once but open my eyes again, catching a glimpse of her lips just before my own come to rest on them. They are warm, so warm. It is, overall, a chaste kiss. Our lips barely move, my hand comes to rest on her waist, above her hip. After several moments and the slightest tilt of our heads, neither of us give any welcome to the other to advance things further and I simply move my lips in that ending a kiss way. When I pull back and look at her, I try to read her eyes. I look at her lips once more before giving her a proud smile, a shit-eating grin. There is the flicker of amusement in her eyes, but no stifle of a smile. She is smiling widely-for Scully, anyway.

"The world didn't end." I say.

"No, it didn't." She replies.

I look over her shoulder, unsure what to do now. It was a nice kiss, but I feel like a teenager. The water is at a full boil now, I swear I can feel it replace the butterflies in my stomach but have never had less of a clue what to do about it. "Happy new year, Scully."

"Happy New year, Mulder."

* * *

 

Author's Notes: Is anybody there? I have ideas for three more chapters after this, would anybody be interested if this writing bug stays with me?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of awkward, unfulfilling kisses leaves Mulder wondering if he and Scully could feel any passion together. Post-Millennium through Post-all things.

Disclaimer: Chris Carter and the gang have redeemed themselves with the new season, I am happy to say that these two are in the possession of Ten Thirteen. But don't we all like getting off on "borrowing" them for a while? :-)

Rating: This story could...probably will become NC-17. But this chapter is just, idk, PG.

Spoilers: Orison and everything before.

Author's Notes: I got the idea for this, tonight, struck by lightning, while reading a wonderful story by a wonderful author on this site. I haven't had any interaction with her (yet?) so I won't mention her name here (yet? lol.) I've been dwelling over the progression of Mulder's feelings during my latest rewatch, but for some reason this all came to me while reading that story.

Feedback? YAAAASSSSS!

* * *

 

She had come to my place. It was unspoken that she would come to my place. It was around noon by the time we made it there. I knew she was still out of sorts because she had left her apartment, in broad daylight, still in her pajamas. We had both been up all night, after the terrible and appalling attack on my partner by Donnie Pfaster. I ushered her inside, closed and locked the door behind her, handing her her bag that I had carried up. "Would you like a shower? Or you're welcome to…the bed is clean." I'm pretty sure I washed the sheets fairly recently.

She nodded, her eyes distant. "Shower, thank you…" She wandered off.

"Scully, would you like something to eat? Actually, I'm getting something to eat. Go shower." She nodded again, walking away. She didn't look distraught, but to my Scully-observant trained eye, she looked deflated.

I ordered some Chinese and waited on the couch. After about 20 minutes I was frequently turning my head to the bathroom, wondering if I should check on her. She had turned on the water almost immediately after entering the bathroom and it was still running. After five more minutes I stood, stretching, about to go check on her. But when she finally shut off the water, I sat and waited. It was another ten minutes before she emerged, I was beginning to debate checking on her again. Finally she came out and sat on the opposite end of the couch from me, her eyes showing the tiniest hint that she had been crying. Not sobbing, just crying. Her hair was still very damp, parted in her normal style, combed straight down to her neck.

I stared at her for a few moments, but she was blankly staring at the TV, so I followed her lead. "The food might take a bit longer to get here, he said they were slammed for lunch today."

"Thank you," she said, nearly a whisper.

I leaned over and crossed the distance of the center cushion with my hand, pulling hers off of her lap to rest our hands next to her leg, my fingers closing sideways around hers. She was still staring at the TV. I watched her face give the smallest hint of break down. Her eyebrows scrunching together, her lower lip quivering ever so slightly. Most of all, she could not hide the pool of moisture above her lower eyelids. Not from me.

I sighed and moved closer, sitting sideways on the middle cushion. My left knee was up against her hip, the inside of my right knee resting against the front of her left. Still holding her hand, I squeezed it, asking her silently to look at me.

She shook her head, blinking away the tears before they fell. "I don't want to talk about it anymore, Mulder."

"Ok," I coax, "that's fine. I just…want you to know that I'm here." I look at her bruising face, her split lip. I let go of her hand and brush my thumb over the scab, feather light. My hand hovers in front of her face. I picture myself, with a hand on her jaw, turning her face to mine and kissing the scab, just as feather lightly. My eyes dart from her lips to her eyes at the thought, but the look there tells me no. Not a look of fear, just a simple no. I nod.

Perfect timing, there's a knock. Our food is here. I return with it and sit next to her on the couch, on the center cushion. I put the food on the coffee table and give her her little carton and chopsticks. We eat together in silence.

A while later, we have both put our cartons on the table. I sit there, quietly and see her nodding off in my peripheral vision. I tentatively move my arm onto the couch behind her and when she leans into my shoulder, rest my hand on her shoulder. Before she dozes off too much, I move to the other end of the couch, guiding her to rest her head on my left leg. "Do you want to move to the bed?"

She gives a little sound to decline my invitation, wincing in pain as she curls up. She closes her eyes though, her breathing slow and even. I feel my lips curl up, despite her pain and the situation that caused it. I again, tentatively run my fingers through her still damp hair. When she doesn't wake or resist I continue, stretching out as best I can. I fall asleep myself this way, my fingers tangled in her hair.

I woke up several hours later, a monster of a crick in my neck. I look down at her in the glow of the TV and the sun of dusk as I try to roll it out. She is deep in sleep. I wonder briefly if she's drooled on me, my lips curling into another smile before I remember her hair had been wet. I run my fingers down her chin, testing if I will wake her if I move. She doesn't stir. I move a pillow under her head and stand, covering her with a blanket. I brush her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear before standing tall and stretching, wincing at the pain in my neck. I look at her once more on my way to the bedroom, then close the door to a crack. I turn on my bedroom TV and strip down to my t-shirt and boxer briefs. When I stretch out under the covers I give a sigh, still exhausted.

The next thing I know, I wake, blinking, looking at the ceiling. I'm waking from such a deep sleep, I'm trying to figure out what day it is, if it is morning or night. The sun is barely penetrating the room and I look at the window. It's morning, I can tell by the sun. It comes to me what day it is, and what happened in the days before. I sigh and turn to throw the covers off of me, to get out of bed to check on her. But there she is sitting on the edge of my bed, watching me. I smirk and rest my head back down on the pillow, keeping the covers balled in my fist at my chest, stretching out in the bed. "How are you doing, Scully."

"I'm ok." It's better than 'fine,' I suppose.

I stare at her for a few minutes. "Scully…?"

"Really, Mulder. I'll be ok."

I believe her. "Ok…"

"Thank you."

"Anytime, Scully."

"I gotta go. I've got to…I need to clean up."

"I'll take you." I know she will not be fully ok until everything in her home is back in it's right place.

An hour later, I am helping her clean up. We are in her bedroom, picking up all of that broken glass from her mirror. I stand and look at the wall, picturing what I heard her say happened when she was giving her statement. She had been thrown, full force into it. I am aware of her, kneeling on the floor, looking at me. She sighs and stands, moving over to the set of shelves that she had knocked over to create an obstacle between her and Pfaster. "Will you help me stand this up, please?"

"Yeah," I say moving to the front of the shelves. I lean down to pick up on them, wincing at the pain in my neck. "Wow, this is a lot heavier than I thought." I stare at her a moment, imagining the adrenaline and pure strength it must have taken for her tiny frame to pull it over. "Ok, um, stand there and pull," I point to the back of it, pointing at where to place her hands. "I'm going to lift here, ok? 1..2..3." I lift first, then grab the bottom of the back of it, by her knees to keep it from tilting on her, while I guide it the rest of the way standing with my left hand. My hand automatically shoots to the left side of my neck, my left hand still resting up on the top of the thing. I look down at her with her hands hanging from one of the shelf rests, trapped between the shelves, the wall, her dresser and me.

"Did you pull your neck?" She asks, concerned.

"No, not now. Last night, on the couch. I'm ok…" I trail off, staring at the scab on her lip again. I once again reach out to touch it with my thumb, my fingers resting against the side of her neck. This time, I can't stop staring at her lips though, the rest of them. Without asking permission, my thumb moves to the center of her bottom lip, pulling down on it ever so gently. Finally my eyes meet hers, as I lick my lips. I pause for five, ten seconds, waiting for another silent 'no.' I don't see it. I don't see a yes, but I don't see a no. Slowly, so slowly, giving her every chance to back away, I lean in. My hand moves to the back of her head and I awkwardly place my lips over that scab. I feel her breath come out against my lips and feel that feeling in my stomach. I place just enough pressure on her neck to let her know I'm not done, and tilt my head to kiss the other side of her mouth, away from the scab. She isn't kissing me back, but she isn't moving away either. I slowly, awkwardly kiss her, trying not to make much contact with the side of her split lip. Finally she moves one hand to my shoulder, leaving her other to hang on the frame of the shelves, using the leverage there to raise herself into my kiss, maybe an inch. I move my hand away from her neck, between us and then her lower back, pulling her closer to me. Our lips are still awkwardly touching, searching for a comfortable angle when I run my hand up her back trying to pull her closer still, she winces and ducks away from my mouth, leaving me hanging. "Shit…sorry…" In trying to pull her closer, I've pressed against what must be a pretty nasty bruise on her back.

She nods and looks up at me, licking her lips, pushing the pain away. I squeeze her shoulder, looking over it. Not going to try kissing her again, not now. It's not right. As we continue picking up broken pieces, putting back together what can be put together in her apartment, I'm thinking about our two kisses. Neither were anything to write home about. I am beginning to speculate that maybe, as much as I've been thinking about it, maybe we don't have that spark. It's pretty hard to believe, as heated as we get in other aspects sometimes. I find her highly attractive, more every day. Sure, she doesn't look like anyone I've dated in the past, but I don't necessarily have a type to begin with. Sapiosexual, I had heard that word recently and felt it best described me. I watched her across the room, sweeping up the last bits of broken glass and things that couldn't be salvaged. Did I really want her? I really thought I did. I dare say I even love her. But it takes a whole lot more than that…Could we find any passion together?

* * *

 

Author's Notes: It gets better, promise! I got plans! Can't believe I've written both of these chapters tonight. Good thing I'm on my off days. Maybe I'll start on the next chapter. Post-Sein und Zeit, anyone?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of awkward, unfulfilling kisses leaves Mulder wondering if he and Scully could feel any passion together. Post-Millennium through Post-all things.

Disclaimer: Chris Carter and the gang have redeemed themselves with the new season, I am happy to say that these two are in the possession of Ten Thirteen. But don't we all like getting off on "borrowing" them for a while? :-)

Rating: This story could...probably will become NC-17. But this chapter is just, idk, PG13.

Spoilers: Sein und Zeit and everything before.

Author's Notes: I got the idea for this, tonight, struck by lightning, while reading a wonderful story by a wonderful author on this site. I haven't had any interaction with her (yet?) so I won't mention her name here (yet? lol.) I've been dwelling over the progression of Mulder's feelings during my latest rewatch, but for some reason this all came to me while reading that story.

Feedback? YAAAASSSSS!

* * *

 

Scully is crouched on the floor in font of me, and I'm leaning on her, holding on for life. She's just revealed to me that my mother was ill, 'dying of an incurable disease.' The rug has just been pulled out from under me. No, the whole damn world was just pulled out from under me. What an asshole I am, I can't just mourn my mother's loss, I am mourning the next to last witness of my sister's life. How dare she go before I got the truth? How dare she check out before I got the answers? It was always so infuriating how she couldn't remember. I would never say it to her face, call her out on the fact that she conveniently forgot so many details. It was bullshit.

I grab the lapels of Scully's jacket and look down at her, wanting to tell her these things, wanting the justification of her telling me it's ok, but I can't find the words. The caring look in her eyes nearly kills me. It's maternal in a way, and no, not in a sick way that she reminds me of who I've just lost. In a way that reminds me of our recent failed attempts to impregnate her. I tighten my hold on her lapels, giving her a shake. "God damn it, Scully…"

For the first time in a long time, her simply being there is not enough to ground me. I need more, I pull her to me and mash my lips hard in to hers. One hand assertively thrusting to the back of her head, tangling in her hair, the other squeezing ever harder on the fabric of her jacket. Her audible gasp halts me for a moment, but still I clumsily try to fit our lips together.

"Mulder!" She's mumbling into my lips, her tongue accidentally brushing against my lips on the L in my name. I grunt and feel heat in my groin, but pull back to give her a desperate look. She's panting, "please, stop." She's not afraid, but she's drawing her line in the sand. "Stop…"

I let go of her abruptly, all at once, gently but purposefully pushing her back out of my space. I get up and stomp to the bathroom, slamming the door. I wince as soon as I hear the bang. I'm not mad at her, I don't know why I did that. I throw my palms to the sides of my forehead, squeezing hard, gritting my teeth. I spin around once before throwing my hands onto the sink and looking at myself in the mirror. I will myself to calm the fuck down. If I don't stop this now, I feel I will spiral down into depths I might not be able to climb back out of. Slowly, so slowly I find my way back. God knows how long I am in there, but eventually I hear her footsteps, then a nearly inaudible rap on the door. I reach behind me and pull it open, staying in my position in front of the sink though.

I feel the feather light touch of her hand on my lower back and turn to her, pulling her into a desperate hug. My arms wrap around her until my hands are on the opposite elbows, then cradle the back of her head, holding her ear to my chest. "I'm sorry, Scully."

She mumbles, almost smothered, but completely reassuring. "It's ok, Mulder…" I think I even hear her say 'shh' as she rubs her hands up and down my back.

I sigh my relief, burying my nose into her hair and inhaling deeply. Finally, just her presence is enough. "Thank you."

She nods as best she can, not pulling back one bit. I close my eyes and breathe her in again, enjoying it. Strawberries, maybe? I feel those damned butterflies again, thinking to myself 'so much for third time's the charm. Who came up with that line anyway?'

* * *

 

Author's notes: Wow wow wee wow, three chapters done tonight. I'm afraid to sleep! But I fear I might have to soon. Post-all things, coming up, ASAP!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of awkward, unfulfilling kisses leaves Mulder wondering if he and Scully could feel any passion together. Post-Millennium through Post-all things.

Disclaimer: Chris Carter and the gang have redeemed themselves with the new season, I am happy to say that these two are in the possession of Ten Thirteen. But don't we all like getting off on "borrowing" them for a while? :-)

Rating: *sirens* Warning, warning: This chapter is adult content. NC-17. Please avert your eyes if you don't want to imagine the two hottest people on the planet getting down.

Spoilers: all things and everything before.

Author's Notes: I got the idea for this, tonight, struck by lightning, while reading a wonderful story by a wonderful author on this site. I haven't had any interaction with her (yet?) so I won't mention her name here (yet? lol.) I've been dwelling over the progression of Mulder's feelings during my latest rewatch, but for some reason this all came to me while reading that story.

Feedback? YAAAASSSSS! I would like to thank those of you that have reviewed as guests. I typically like to send a PM and personally thank everyone, but I can't if you're a guest! So here I will say it. Thank you, it means a lot, really.

* * *

 

She fell asleep on me. That quickly. I turn to her and stare for a moment, taken by her beauty as I am at least once almost every day lately. I reach over and brush that errant lock of hair off of her cheek, behind her ear. I pause and stare at her lips. Despite recent clumsy attempts at that new affection lately, I want to take her mouth with mine. I can't fathom why I'm so obsessed with the thought. Not in that every waking moment kind of way but it catches me off guard, all of my thoughts disappearing, yielding to that one all-consuming thought. I push that thought away and reach over her for the blanket, covering her. I give her face one last lingering look before I get up, leaving her as she is. I quietly gather the tea mugs from the coffee table and take them to the kitchen, rinsing them and putting them out to dry. I turn out the lights, head towards my bedroom and stop in the doorway, staring at my empty bed.

I've gotten pretty used to sleeping in a bed. But tonight it looks lonely. I lean back and look at my couch. It looks more inviting than my bed tonight. I bite my lips for a moment, debating with myself. Well, she's not going to sleep well like that anyway. I sigh and go to her, pulling the blanket back off of her. I lean down and scoop her up easily, turn around and make it two steps before she stirs. "Mulder?"

I'm stopped dead in my tracks, I hadn't contemplated what would happen if she woke up. Uh…I finally chance a look at her and she's looking at me, puzzled. "I was just…taking you to bed. I mean," awkward chuckle, "I was going to let you have the bed."

"Mmm…" she rubs her eyes, sleepily and yawns. I'm standing there, and finally decide all I can do is keep walking. The moment I start to move, she says, "Put me down, Mulder."

I nod, leaning to put her feet on the floor. "Sorry, I just thought you would be more comfortable…"

She's standing in front of me now, and places a finger on my lips. She looks into my eyes and we stare for what feels like a very long time. I am frozen with that finger on my lips, staring into her deep blue eyes, the butterflies tickling faintly on the lining of my stomach. Finally, she glances at that finger on my lips and something in her eyes changes. She takes a breath in through her nose and visibly her breath quickens. My eyes must look like two big question marks. Finally, finally, her finger moves away from my lips and she nods. She is not willing to make the move, to lean in and take it. I swear, I gulp. I didn't even think gulps were a real thing, outside of cartoons, but I gulped nonetheless. I decide if this doesn't work, I've got to quit thinking about it. Fat chance, but that's what SHOULD happen. I sigh and count down, holding her gaze, leaning in slowly. Finally, finally, finally she stands up on her toes and her lips meet mine.

She sighs in a way I have not heard before and I have to pull back to look at her for a moment. She senses me pulling back and leans in closer, grabbing onto my sweater at my chest and pulling me to her. I oblige and meet her lips again. For a moment it is no different than any other kiss we've shared. Until she parts her lips and her tongue brushes my upper lip, requesting entry. My breath catches and I open my mouth, my tongue slowly, slowly searching.

The moment our tongues meet, I swear I feel something crashing through me. It starts in my brain, the blood quickly draining, leaving me dizzy. I am surprised and not surprised when every last bit of it heads south. I pull her closer, lifting her up to me with one hand tangled in her hair, the other on her lower back. Our tongues meet again, brushing up against each other more slowly and suggestively than the first time. I feel those butterflies in my stomach grow in size and fly upwards, around my heart, their wings beating so hard against it I think it might quit beating. I feel a warmth through my whole chest that I've never felt with her. Have I ever felt this with anyone? I stop kissing her long enough to say, "oh, thank God," before tilting my head and going in for more. She meets me eagerly, my tongue is thoroughly exploring her mouth now. Passion? There is no doubt passion. My hands are here, in her hair, there down her sides, back again, on her neck, not able to touch everywhere I want to feel all at once. I accidentally pull her hair and she gives off a little whimper of pain that drives me wild. "Jesus Christ, Scully," we are battling with our mouths, pushing with all our might against one another.

I grab the collar of her jacket and am pushing it off over her shoulders, down her arms, breaking the contact of our mouths with an audible smack, long enough to push it off and onto the floor, the arms now inside out. One of my hands runs up from the smallest part of her back, under her shirt, up to between her shoulders as we join for another kiss. I hesitantly put one foot forward, and when she immediately takes a step back, I lead her towards the bedroom with more purpose. Somewhere around the doorway I break our kiss again, ripping that green shirt over her head. I pause to take one look. From the top of her skirt, up her rib cage, pausing a moment over her black bra, her breasts filling it, and to her face. Her hair is as wild as if we've been chased by a helicopter from the living room to the bedroom.

My eyes land on her swollen lips and I have to have them again. Her hands are roaming and now she's taking off my sweater. It lands on the floor somewhere and I pull her to me, skin against skin. Her arms are around my neck and I hold her to me just as tightly as I ever have. For the first time, I allow myself to touch her ass, pulling her all at once against me. I hear her throaty groan when she feels my erection against her belly and I take more steps forward while she steps backwards towards the bed. When the backs of her legs against the bed stop us, I suddenly pause and look down at her. We are both panting wildly, but I stop long enough to take her face in my hands, meeting her eyes. One question, without words. She pauses, my Scully. I see her think about it. Giving it due thought. Making sure she's sure. Then finally, the slightest nod of her head. That's all I need and I push her back onto the bed, falling on top of her.

I am supporting myself with one elbow as our mouths meet again and I take her breast in my other hand. My erection becomes so hard it hurts as I hold her breast for the first time, feeling the softness, feeling her heart pounding underneath. I have suddenly lost my breath and have to leave her mouth, my own trailing kisses down her jaw, to her neck for the first time. I nearly growl when I taste her perfume on my tongue and pull her bra down to bare her breast to my hand. All the while, she is giving remarkably encouraging little moans and whimpers.

I raise myself above her, pulling the straps of her bra down over her shoulders and arms, just pulling the whole thing down to her waist. Not even enough patience to reach behind her and undo it properly. I stare for only a moment, taking in her perfectly round breasts before ducking down to kiss her again, there will hopefully be time for slow appreciation on a later day. She meets me with another desperate kiss, pulling me on top of her. She begins to spread her legs but gives off a highly irritated, completely endearing whine of frustration with her skirt. I rise again and turn her towards one side, then the other, finding the little zipper on the side. I take another moment to appreciate her breasts while I undo the zipper and begin tugging her skirt down her hips. Seeing the line of her pantyhose, I pause and grab that too, taking them and the skirt clean off. I kneel between her legs again, standing on my knees on the bed. I raise her up by her arms and have her meet me that way, before I reach down and spread her legs, sitting back on my calves, letting her straddle me while I hold her up. We take another moment to actually look at one another, in the eyes, trying to catch our breath. I almost feel as if I've lost time, from the moment she rested her finger on my lips in the living room until now. My breathing slows to about half the speed it was, just looking into her eyes, until I smell her arousal between us. She sees my jaw clench, as I inhale quickly, then slowly through my nose. She reaches down with no hesitation between us, stroking my hard as nails dick through my jeans as she kisses me harder still. "FFF…ahh, God." It's so sensitive, so constricted, but just the thought of Scully touching me for the first time nearly sends me over. When she turns her hand down and runs her palm down the length of me, I whimper and grab her wrist. Looking away a moment for fear one look at her breasts, her face, even her toned stomach will send me over.

When I am able to look at her again, she reaches behind her to the small of her back and undoes her bra, tossing it aside. Then, with a questioning look she reaches between us, unbuttoning my jeans. I am in awe, watching Scully's hands undress me. Those hands that I've watched do a multitude of mundane tasks, nearly every day I've spent with her. She is still straddling my thighs and I sit absolutely still as she unzips my jeans. She moves back onto the bed, on her knees again and pushes me toward the edge of the bed, urging me to stand. She sits on the edge of the bed in front of me.

When my feet are on the ground, she carefully pulls my pants and boxers over an erection that I guarantee has never been so hard in my life. She pushes them down to my calves, then ducks down to untie my shoes. I am about to move to step out of one of my boots when she takes my dick into her hand and slowly runs her hand up the length of it. I buck towards her, my eyes closed in ecstasy. When I look down at her, she is looking down at me, her lips parted, studying me with as much attention as I've ever seen her use on any specimen before her. I struggle to keep control until she does it once again, her eyes squinting and licking her lips at the precum accumulating. I can't take it. I swat her hand away, pushing her back up onto the bed. I take my boots and remaining clothes off, then crawl up next to her on the bed. I know, I KNOW I will not last long inside her, so as badly as I want to be there, I stall a bit longer. I begin to kiss her again, and suck her bottom lip until she's writhing underneath me. I work my thumb over her perfect little nipple while I suck on her neck until those hot, throaty little groans are all I can hear. Now I snake my way, not so slowly, down her smooth stomach and belly, into her panties. All at once, as my middle finger quickly finds her clit, I feel how wet she is, she gives a buck of her hips and gives the hottest, throaty little groan yet. This time, forming a word, "MUL-der." I have to stop everything and squeeze my eyes closed. I almost lost it.

"You're killing me, Scully…" She raises her hips, asking me to continue. I take a deep breath and hold it before I slowly begin to circle her clit. She is so damned wet and I haven't even felt the rest. I bite my lips and kiss her neck again, willing myself not to come while I push down farther into her panties, groaning low in my throat as I make contact with her opening. I am panting now, pushing a finger inside her. She is already quivering around my finger. I kiss her mouth again, feeling those butterflies in my chest again. She is hot, and moaning my name against my lips between kisses. I want to, God I want her first one to be around me, buried deep inside her, but I'm not sure if I will make it. Not this time.

I can't believe what she's done. I am working one finger, then two inside her, right around her G-spot. "Scully…I bite her neck and she spreads her legs wider, on the edge, I can feel it. "Let go, Scully. Come for me." I lower my hand and push against her clit, once, twice, and she bucks into my hand, surprising me when she takes her hand and lays it over mine, pushing my fingers deeper inside her as she thrusts into them, so I oblige and push them deeper inside, along her upper wall. When she is over the climax, before she even has time to come down, I am over her, pulling her panties off of her. Now I'm pushing against her opening with the blunt tip of my dick. "Look at me." She opens hooded eyes and looks at me, still quivering from her release. I give her one last questioning look before I begin to push inside her. I try to go slowly but son of a bitch she feels…I gasp and have to pull back when she quivers around me, her hips involuntarily thrusting. I meet her eyes again and she gives me a lazy smirk. "Don't laugh, Scully, that'll make it worse." She can't help it, she laughs a little, and so do I, into her ear, nuzzling the side of her face. Soon I am serious again, though, whispering into her ear, nibbling her earlobe. "I never told you, that you don't laugh enough." I nibble on the tendon, just under and behind her ear and she sighs. "It's a wonderful sound, and it's okay to admit that I'm funny sometimes." She sighs and I smirk, able to begin entering her again. But she quivers around me once more and I involuntarily thrust forward, entering her farther than I meant to. After a quick inhale and exhale, I say "Sorry," and start to pull out a bit, but she surprises me once again when she moans and stops me with a hand on my ass. She looks into my eyes and my mouth falls open, pushing the rest of the way inside her with an embarrassing noise. I think I made that noise the first time I had sex. I also think I lasted about 3 seconds after that noise. She lies back though and digs her nails a little into my ass, holding me there with as much pressure as I can give her before letting go, wanting me to thrust. She is constantly moving around me now and I want to, I really, really want to get her there again. I go for it. Whether I get her there or not, it's starting to become painful, how bad I want to come inside her. I hook an arm under her leg and begin moving deliberately, looking down at her with determination. She looks at me through those ridiculously beautiful hooded eyes and rolls her head back, lips parted. I'm sweating like crazy, I realize when she reaches up and pushes my hair off of my forehead and it leaves a dripping wet spot. She runs her fingers through my hair and I kiss the inside of her wrist .

I tighten the muscle in my arm a little, raising her leg a little higher and she whimpers. "Oh, ohh…God. Yeah, Right there Mulder!"

Hearing her using my name, not only my name, not Fox, 'Mulder,' in that context has me trembling. "Scully…I'm gonna…" One final wordless question, because if I'm gonna pull out I have to do it now.

She raises her other leg, visibly sweating herself now. She reaches around and digs her nails into my ass, her insides squeezing me harder than I ever thought possible on the edge of her second climax.

I nearly black out, seeing stars as I come inside her, hear her and feel her coming around me…

Moments after we finish moving, my forehead is resting on her shoulder and I'm still catching my breath. I feel sweat on nearly every inch of my skin. Her hand is resting on the back of my neck. She slowly lowers her legs down, and I hear her wince. I look to her face and smile when I see her smiling. "That's gonna hurt tomorrow," she says. I finally pull out of her and we both moan from the sensation. I turn over onto my back, keeping my eyes on her. I don't care how good it is, after so many years together WITHOUT having sex, this moment is GOING to be awkward. She looks at the ceiling a few moments, lightly tickling her rib cage, thinking while I watch her. "You know, Mulder, I thought you didn't believe in God." I just give her a puzzled, amused look. "Well, you thanked God when we first kissed in there." She turns towards me, propped up on one elbow, I take her hand and absentmindedly trace her palm lines with my thumb.

I gave her a real laugh, "Well, I was really starting to worry you were a bad kisser."

Her mouth falls open in mock offense, before we both laugh in a completely awkward, euphoric way. She leans in over my face, her hair falling from behind her ear and tickling my cheek, her face hovering over mine. "And now?"

"You're not a BAD kisser, Scully." I'm grinning ear to ear. "Seriously, though," my fingers are lazily stroking her hair, "I think we just tried too soon. You know?"

"Uh huh…" she gives me a slow, exploratory, lazy kiss now and I run my fingers slowly down her back. Finally she lies down, resting her head on my chest. All at once, she looks as if she will fall asleep again. I get us under the covers and fall asleep with her in my arms, her head tucked under my chin, dreaming of all the ways I will kiss her and more in the future.

* * *

 

Author's notes: Well, that escalated quickly. When I started the first chapter I imagined this last one would be a hard R, light NC-17. The characters took me where they wanted to go, as always. :-) I had a little trouble with the ending but I hope I tied it up in a neat enough bow.

PS-to the guest requesting that I tackle the events of Per Manum, I couldn't manage to make it work in this story, but I did do that in my much longer story, 'I'm Yours.' *hint hint*


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